


hold me between your fingers

by eggtoasties



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Danzo did not rise to power, F/M, No Uchiha Massacre, Smoking, a year after the Pein invasion, shika wants to braid sakura's hair, shikaku thinks sakura is the Coolest, they are tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggtoasties/pseuds/eggtoasties
Summary: They've always been in each other's orbits, but now she's too close.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Nara Shikamaru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 149





	hold me between your fingers

Shikamaru leaned forward on the railing and looked over Konoha. It was just past sunset and the village was cast in cool blue shadows. Men and women were walking home from work with overflowing brown paper bags filled with the night’s groceries, eager to get out of the early spring chill. The sound of shinobi sandals slapping against rooftops could be heard along with the fading peals of laughter as children ran home. 

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and hummed as he felt the smoke settle pleasantly in his chest and exhaled to hear the door behind him slide open. Peering at her from the side of his eye, he watched as Sakura deftly took the pack of cigarettes out of his left breast pocket and angled an eyebrow at her when he saw her shake one out.

“Will you let me bum a smoke?” Sakura murmured around the cigarette already in her mouth. 

Shikamaru stared at her as she placed the pack back in the pocket of his flak vest and secured the clasp. He started to dig in his pocket for Asuma’s silver lighter, but she beckoned him closer with a jerk of her head. Rolling his eyes, he bent down towards her and lit her cigarette with his. As she took a deep inhale, Shikamaru studied the faint veins across her eyelids—delicate purple and blue trails. Her eyelashes fluttered open as she exhaled, and she braced her arms on the railing and heaved a sigh.

“Should _you_ be doing that?” he asked, gesturing to the smoke lazily curling around her hand. She rolled her eyes and surveyed the village around them. She studied the pinpricks of light that marked front porches and caught glimpses of families through open curtains. A cool breeze rustled the Hashirama trees around the roof of Hokage tower and brought with it a scent of pine and spice—home. 

Home. Despite the way the village’s borders had expanded and there were new developments Sakura had never step foot in. The hospital had underwent a major renovation following Pein’s attack and while it was very much her domain, the way the hinges of her office door didn’t squeak, the unchipped pastel green walls, and even the shiny clipboards for patient charts were all reminders that everything _was_ different. 

She looked over to Shikamaru who was rubbing his thumb over his silver lighter, periodically flicking it open and thought _well, not everything._

“Shinobi die from kunai wounds to their vital points, nasty jutsus, dumb luck,” she tapped the cigarette with her forefinger and watched the ash fall, “Their own hand,” she concluded. She took a drag and exhaled through her nose. “We don’t die from lung cancer.”

Shikamaru turned towards her, his right forearm leaning against the railing as he assessed her. Her hair looked almost lilac under the moonlight, candy floss strands pulled neatly into a low bun. Weariness emanated from her drooped shoulders and tired eyes. Reconstruction had been hard on everyone. 

Following the Pein invasion, the village was a disaster. The water systems, electrical grid, sewage systems—everything—was decimated. Every able bodied person had to assist with rebuilding physical infrastructure, but the attack also showed that many of the administrative protocols and bureaucratic red tape that had been set during the Third Hokage’s rule led to inefficiencies and delayed responses. Using the turmoil after the invasion, Tsunade had strong-armed the council into agreeing to a massive review and overhaul of executive protocols. Not only did Konoha literally need to be rebuilt from the ground up, but the attack also left the village vulnerable to outside attacks.

Shinobis were pulling double and triple shifts—guarding, patrolling, rebuilding—adding to the constant edge of tension and paranoia. Sakura and Shikamaru had the privilege and stress of being roped into the political and administrative side of reconstruction. While they rarely were on projects together with Shikamaru drafting strategy after strategy for potential attacks and Sakura focusing on revamping the medical system with Shizune and ensuring alliances with Suna through diplomatic correspondence and meetings, they were both near constant fixtures in the Hokage tower. 

Despite it being nearly a year from the attack, the pain wrought from devastation was only just starting to dull with time, but the looming war in the horizon overrode any semblance of true normalcy. 

“Just don’t tell Sasuke,” Sakura muttered. “He might not seem like it, but he detests anything remotely bad for your health.”

Shikamaru scoffed. “I thought Naruto would be the one losing his head over the fact that his _Sakura-chan_ smokes.” His lip curled minutely at the thought of Naruto breaking down in theatrical hysterics and the fact that Lee would probably join in on the mayhem. 

Sakura scoffed and broke Shikamaru out of his daydream. “Naruto consumes ramen to a point where it’s detrimental to his health—he can’t tell me shit,” she responded wryly. 

“Also, _how_ have they not noticed by now,” Shikamaru drawled on. “Ino’s always complaining about the smell and won’t let me borrow her kunai because she swears she can smell it on the wrappings,” he complained, rolling his eyes and wringing a hand through his ponytail. He shifted his weight and slumped over the railing dejectedly making Sakura softly laugh. Laboriously pulling himself up he said, “There’s no way you can get around Kakashi’s nose either.”

Sakura turned so her back was against the railing and looked up conspiringly at Shikamaru. “I can be _very_ sneaky when I want to be,” she said cheekily, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. 

Thinking back several months, to the one council meeting Shikamaru attended with his father where Sakura also made appearance, he recalled the way Sakura placated the conservative elders with mollifying words and soft smiles, tempering Tsunade’s clear exasperation. While she was able to twist her words so prettily and convincingly, forcing the elders to believe that she was Tsunade’s level headed counterpart like Shizune, they failed to catch the sharp gleam in her eye as she subtly bent them to her will. 

He had known loud, brash Sakura. The Sakura that screamed at Ino during their Chuunin exams in front everyone with no shred of embarrassment. The Sakura that would publicly berate Naruto in the middle of a street and punt him across the village without batting an eye. The Sakura that would shatter the earth with her small fists and laugh at the wreckage. At the time, he hadn’t known sharp, cunning Sakura, that lied in wait like a viper. Waiting for the most opportune time to strike with a honeyed tongue and bright green eyes. The Sakura that would meld opinions to mirror hers and smile when it was then presented as an original thought.

He remembered slouching in his chair, hardly stifling his yawns, but watching Sakura through half lidded eyes. Waiting for a tick in her jaw or a slip of the tongue that would give her away—he searched for any weakness that would betray her defense or offense. 

He couldn’t find any. She had been perfect.

At the end of the meeting, trailing after an incensed Tsunade, she stopped to politely bow to Shikaku and waved at Shikamaru before running after Tsunade, likely to join in complaining about the elders. Shikaku had slung an arm around Shikamaru and gave a low whistle.

“You’d learn a lot from her.” Shikaku’s bright eyes stared ahead at Sakura’s retreating figure and he thumped his son on the back. “She’ll have you eating out of her hand, Shikamaru,” Shikaku said with a wink, making Shikamaru groan in embarrassment.

Watching Sakura taking one last drag, flicking the remnants to the ground, and crushing the butt of the cigarette with her heel, he realized he didn’t know this Sakura either.

She had turned back to face the village, and crossed her arms over her chest to trying to retain warmth in her thin doctors coat. During Shikamaru’s silent musings, she had undone the elastic that kept her hair in place. Long, thick hair cascaded around her shoulders in waves, framing her delicate face in a haze of silvery pink. The tip of her nose and the tops of her cheeks were flushed with the drop in temperature and Shikamaru could see the near invisible tendrils of her breath in the cold air. She licked her lips, slightly chapped and dry from the cigarette and his eyes traced the soft curve of her cheek, dusted with light freckles, the cut of her jaw, and her exposed neck. 

Feeling his stare, she looked up at him and he felt a warmth in his chest and a rush to his head that wasn’t from the nicotine. 

He averted his eyes and threw his hands behind his head. Ignoring the way she peered up at him, she was closer than he could ever remember them being. He murmured around his cigarette.

“Troublesome.”


End file.
